


the right combination

by brosura



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domesticity, High School, High School Domesticity, M/M, They're sharing lockers fellas!, fic with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21529873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brosura/pseuds/brosura
Summary: “Let me try,” Noctis says with a little laugh at Prompto’s expense as he takes his place in front of the locker.Naturally, he unlocks it in one go.Of course it opens for him,is what Prompto thinks at first, a little bitter from the residual frustration of repeated failure. Then the calmer part of him remembers,Oh, this is his locker.That would do it.Prompto and Noctis and the high school domesticity that is sharing lockers.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162





	the right combination

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was written for the amazing insomnia high zine, which has just finished its first printing!
> 
> all art featured in this fic is by ej [@emspiredmagic](https://twitter.com/emspiredmagic) on twitter!

“Dammit,” Prompto hisses as he twists the dial once more to no avail. 

It’s his third attempt at opening the locker door, so it’s the last time he tries with anything resembling patience. The dial squeaks in protest as he roughly spins it around to what he’s _certain_ is his combination.

_Clockwise. Pass zero. Counterclockwise._

He’s so focused on the action that when someone suddenly appears in his periphery and gently shoves him aside, the miniscule force of it almost takes him to the ground and startles a decidedly _not_ unmanly squeak from his lungs.

“Let me try,” Noctis says with a little laugh at Prompto’s expense as he takes his place in front of the locker. 

Naturally, he unlocks it in one go.

_Of course it opens for him_ , is what Prompto thinks at first, a little bitter from the residual frustration of repeated failure. Then the calmer part of him remembers, _Oh, this is his locker._

That would do it.

“You always have trouble with my locker,” Noctis notes absently as he fishes around for something inside. 

“It’s muscle memory, dude,” Prompto explains. “I keep trying to use my combination.”

“Well, get used to using mine,” Noctis says.

Prompto is about to say something smart in turn when he feels something tap his cheek. He scarcely has time to blink before Noctis is in his face and he finds he can’t think anything smart at all. 

It’s just a moment of contact, a butterfly touch of lips against his, but it’s just enough time that Prompto can feel the flutter of wings in his chest before Noctis pulls away.

Then Noct shoves the notebook he was holding to their faces - the one Prompto distantly recognizes as the one he needed for class - to Prompto’s chest and looks offensively nonchalant as he numbly takes it.

“You’re gonna be late,” is all Noctis offers up as he gathers a book of his own from the ledge of their open locker.

And as if nothing happened, he shuts the door and leaves Prompto staring at the notebook in his hands.

He has a moment of stunned silence to himself before he hears from around the corner, “Get to class!”

Noctis is going to be late to class. 

He understands it’s not really that big of a deal. His teachers have adjusted to his often court-necessitated truancy and trust him enough as a student and/or fear him enough as the prince to mostly leave him be. He just feels bad because he’s been absent the last few days over a few emergency court meetings and the head-cold that followed and he doesn’t want to give the impression he doesn’t care.

So even if it doesn’t matter, he’s still searching the locker with a frantic urgency when he finds it.

Not what he was looking for, but something else. 

_Hey Noct,_ the note reads in Prompto’s half-sloppy rushed print. He recognizes the paper as something torn from Prompto’s math notebook, the letters neatly contained by the blue grid. _If you’re reading this, then you got back before I could see you. Really missed you in lab for the titrations (heh), dude. Missing you in general. Come back soon._

_Love you,_ Prompto signs off with a little doodle of a winking face. 

It’s neatly printed, but lightly pressed into the page. Hesitation and confidence at once.

It could be shyness. It could be whatever makes Noct’s breath catch in his throat when he sees it.

Someone passes behind him, another student rushing to a class he finds he doesn’t care he’ll be late to, and he instinctively presses himself into the open locker to protect the moment this note created. 

_Love you._ His eyes trace over the words again and again. _Love you._

“Guard’s down!” he only just barely hears, but he doesn’t have time to react to the familiarity of the voice before the locker door shuts on him. 

“H-hey!” he squeaks, as it bounces off his back with not _a lot_ of force, but enough for him to feel embarrassed at the sound he makes. He’d be more embarrassed if he didn’t already know who it was. _“Prompto.”_

And sure enough, there he is, holding the locker door open as he stands just close enough for Noctis to feel his warmth. 

“Welcome back!” he greets with that bright, sunny smile and for a second Noctis feels like he’s come home.

“Hey,” Noctis repeats, but softer this time, only in small part due to not being actively hit by a door. “Happy to be back.” 

Prompto perks up at that, his smile going a little wider. Noctis still isn’t sure if he finds it sweet or a little upsetting how pleasantly surprised Prompto seems every time Noctis reminds him how much he enjoys his company.

Either way, Prompto’s grin goes a little mischievous as he slips a notebook out from under his arm. “Looking for this?”

_“Dude,”_ Noctis starts, accusatory, as he snatches it from Prompto’s hands.

Prompto just laughs, holding both hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me, you left it in yours! And I came all the way over here out of the goodness of my heart when I saw it.”

Noctis frowns. “Don’t I usually keep this in your locker?”

He shakes his head. “You asked me to bring it back after Chem before you left, remember? I go to _your_ locker after Chem.”

“So it _is_ your fault.”

Prompto shrugs with an exaggerated sigh. “Can never win with you.”

Noctis is about to say something witty back, but he doesn’t get the chance before Prompto leans in and suddenly he can’t say anything even if he wanted to. It’s not long for a kiss - it’s not much more than a quick press of lips against his, really - but Noctis can feel a kind of light-headed and giddy numbness rush through him all the same.

He finds it doesn’t matter much what they were playing at arguing over. It doesn’t matter that they’re still at school and someone might see them. It doesn’t matter that-

“You’re gonna be late,” Prompto says, quiet, after he pulls away. 

“What?” Noctis manages, but only just barely.

This is half because his brain isn’t quite working at the moment, half because Prompto’s shutting the locker door on him again and he can’t do much but make a weak noise of surprise as it bounces off him with just enough force to knock him off balance. He spends a moment leaning against his textbooks and half-inside the locker while Prompto’s mischievous laugh and retreating footsteps echo through the hallway.

“You’re gonna be late!” Prompto repeats as he disappears around the corner with a wave.

Noctis calls back, indignant, “Same to you!” 

He gets one last echo of Prompto’s laughter as he finishes gathering his books and makes to close the door. He pauses as he sees the slip of paper, torn from one of Prompto’s notebooks, peeking out from the mess at the bottom of their shared locker. 

_Love you._

He pockets it before he leaves.

“I’m just saying,” Prompto says around a mouthful of chips. “Wouldn’t mind leftovers and a movie, y’know?”

“And I’m not saying I _don’t_ like the idea,” Noctis corrects as he returns another book and picks one out to replace it in his book bag. 

It’s nearing the end of their lunch period so they’re lingering by one of their lockers. Noctis can’t say he wants to remember who it was originally assigned to, but they’ve been favoring this one more since it’s got a nice view and it’s located in a quieter part of the school. As it is, there’s only been the quiet buzz of students talking in the courtyard below them to interrupt them working out the logistics of this weekend’s date night. 

“Then that settles it!” Prompto declares from where he’s leaning against the adjacent locker. “Leftovers and a movie.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t _normally_ be opposed,” Noctis says. “It’s just that what I have for leftovers is that stew Ignis made.” 

_“Oh,”_ Prompto answers, half-knowing, half-annoyed. “Dude, you’ve really gotta get over your hang-ups over the stew.”

“It’s not the stew, it’s the _carrots_ I have hang-ups about,” Noctis grumbles. “I _like_ stew.” 

“Aw, babe,” Prompto coos, exaggerated and sugar sweet. “I love _stew_ , too.” 

He punctuates the sentence with a wink and a self-congratulatory smirk and it’s so _stupid_ but Noctis finds himself starting to flush anyway. He can’t help it. Every time they say it to each other feels special and novel in it’s own way.

_Love you._

It’s a nice thing to hear. Even if he had to hear it like _that._

“That’s so dumb,” Noctis manages.

“Oh my god, but you’re actually-” Prompto laughs with breathless delight anyway, having evidently noticed the pink at Noct’s cheeks. “You’re actually-”

“You shut up,” Noctis threatens, but he’s clearly lacking any kind of punch because Prompto’s still giggling as Noctis grabs a fistful of his shirt and shoves him forcefully into their locker. “Get in there, you dweeb.” 

“Help!” Prompto calls in mock distress as Noctis pulls the door closer around them to conceal them from prying eyes. “I’m being bullied!” 

“Shut _up,”_ Noctis repeats. But this time, he’s laughing, too. “Someone might actually check on you.”

“Well,” Prompto says with a conspiratory grin. His hands find their way to Noct’s waist, one circling behind him to pull him closer. “Wouldn’t want interruptions, would we?” 

Prompto’s little grin turns an exaggerated kind of suggestive as he wiggles his brows, but he himself seems to find it over the top if the little giggle that escapes him is anything to go by. So when Noctis finally settles into the space they’ve squeezed themselves into, pressed up close, Prompto’s only smiling at Noctis with something bright and content, eyes shimmering with a comfortable anticipation. 

So Noctis gives him what he’s waiting for. 

The hand he’d used to push Prompto into the locker relaxes and runs a familiar course to the junction of Prompto’s neck as he leans in to press their lips together. Prompto still tastes like the chips he was eating and Noctis can feel more vividly where his lip is cracked from a hard fall in the training room, but he finds it all doesn’t matter as much as the soft, pleased noise Prompto makes into the space they share.

He pulls away and it feels too soon, but Prompto’s quiet, content laugh is enough of a consolation prize.

The quiet, “Love you,” that follows even moreso. 

“Love you, too,” Noctis echoes. 

Prompto laughs again, breathless and full of wonder, and Noctis finds his own lips curling upwards in turn. 

He has half a mind to lean in again and give Prompto another kiss, but the warm bubble of a moment pops when they hear a sharp, annoyed, “Hey, you!”

Prompto coughs and spins towards the locker, shoving Noctis away with his elbow to fish for something inside. Noctis stumbles back enough to see the teacher poking his head out of the classroom past their locker door. He seems surprised that it’s Noctis, but no less annoyed.

“Uh,” Noctis manages. Prompto snorts quietly in front of him. “Yes, sir?”

“The bell rang,” he explains. “You don’t hurry and you two are gonna be late.”

“Got it,” Noctis says. “Thanks.”

The teacher gives him a dubious once over, but shuts the door. Noctis relaxes just a bit, but then there’s a bag being pressed into his arms and Prompto’s in his space, giving him a quick and forceful peck on the cheek.

“You’re gonna be late!” Prompto echoes, bright and mischievous, and sprints away. 

“We’re in the same class!” Noctis starts, and then realizes with a groan that he’s going to have to run, too. “Prompto, wait up!” 

“You _catch_ up!” Prompto laughs as he rounds the corner.

Noctis follows after him.

**Author's Note:**

> i can neither confirm nor deny that i saw the deleted scene from sabans power rangers where trini tells kim that she doesn't need to use her locker that has been defaced by bullies, implying that they are now sharing a locker, and went absolutely BANANAS and gained inspiration for this fic
> 
> special thanks to ej for the art and the folks over at [insomnia high](https://twitter.com/InsomniaHigh) for featuring me in their zine! it was a blast to get to work alongside so many talented artists and writers! and thanks to you for the read!
> 
> please feel free to leave a comment or hit me up on [tumblr](http://brosura.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/bigkatsanctuary)!!


End file.
